New World, Old Problems
by ClearlyInvsible
Summary: A series of oneshots surrounding the second generation of Shepherds, during and after the events of Awakening. Time and place changes from chapter to chapter, along with cast.
1. Melding Time (Severa)

It was a triumph that Ylisstol had not seen in ages.

The parade marched with boundless energy. Soldiers from all corners of the Halidom, lock step and in perfect formation. Their blue uniforms covered in colored streamers that onlookers rained down upon them from the rooftops above. Onlookers flanked each side of the street, cheering and waving as their protectors moved past them.

It had been two years since many of these men and women had seen their homeland again. Two years of surviving off of dried rations and long nights watching for ambush. Surrounded, cut off, surviving only by a thread in a conflict that no one expected them to win.

And yet, they had.

The war was over. The Valmese threat had been culled, forever. Even outnumbered four to one, Ylisse and her allies had managed to save their country from yet another horrific invasion. Their new Exalt had now proven himself a capable leader in peace and war. The homeland, for the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime, escaped the scars of war.

The soldiers were jubilant. The _people_ were beside themselves with joy. As their royals rode in an open carriage, proud cheers and a thankful nation surrounded them as they basked in the gratitude of their subjects.

It was a happy time for all. Except for one man, riding at the front of everyone.

Robin remained stoic in the eyes of the populace. The Grandmaster of Ylisse, Field Marshal of her army, couldn't bring himself to find joy in all of this. As usual, he was trapped in the recesses of his own mind.

Even now that the Conqueror had fallen, their greatest enemy remained in hiding. Lucina's warnings of Grima's revival could not be shaken from his thoughts. Fire, brimstone. Everything and everyone he knew, banished from the world of the living.

Perhaps the worst thing to come from it was the effects he witnessed that world had on his daughter.

Six months before Valm had invaded Regna Ferox, he'd been given the gift of fatherhood. His wife had given birth to a lovely baby girl, her hair white as snow. From the moment she entered the world, she'd been a fighter. Kicking and screaming, yearning for freedom. Those first few months, watching over her crib and being woken up in the dead of night. They'd been a living hell. But he saw the beauty in her, and loved the child in the way only a parent could.

Seeing what she'd grown into… scared him. Her future self had become such a bitter, distrustful woman. Lashing out at all those who came close, keeping herself and arm's length away from both him and her mother. All of the children who'd come from the fallen future were hurt, but to see his own flesh and blood like this.

Knowing he died, leaving her alone in such a bleak time. He failed his greatest duty, the one he had to his child.

Knowing that, all of these celebrations seemed trite.

Until he knew that future was averted, he couldn't find himself relaxing. Not yet.

"Robin?" A voice called to him, making him turn to see.

Cordelia rode at his flank, her armor shining like a beacon. Her smile was instantly calming, warmth entering his consciousness like the fires of her scarlet hair. The Falcon Knight accompanied him at the front for two reasons. Firstly, as the head of the Royal Guard, it was natural that she headed up a formation that included two of the people she was sworn to defend.

Secondly, she refused to keep her husband out of sight. Because she knew Robin better than anyone else, even himself.

Unlike him, his wife was actually able to enjoy this celebration. Something he envied greatly, how she learned to appreciate what they both had. While he was here, trapped in his fears, she was looking to the future as one of peace and prosperity.

"I'm fine, Cordelia. Just dueling with unpleasant thoughts." He comforted.

"I could tell. You almost fell out of your saddle." She mentioned. Robin took note, readjusting his seat as his wife chuckled at the show. "Come now, stop being so dour. We're finally back home. We don't need to spend every night stuck in a tent, sleeping in a cot."

"I think we did more than just sleep in that cot." Robin reminced, taking his turn to chuckle as his wife flushed in embarrassment. "You're right. This is supposed to be a happy moment."

"Not just a moment. From this point onwards." Cordelia affirmed. "If we continue to fear the future, we'll never embrace what good comes of it."

"Turning my own words against me?" Robin asked with a cocked brow.

"From whence our positions were inverted." Cordelia answered with a smirk. "If you didn't want to be outwitted, you shouldn't have married a woman smarter than you."

"To avoid being banished to the guest room, I won't argue against that blatant falsehood." Robin replied, earning another giggle from the Captain. It was like music to him, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"Good." She affirmed. "Hopefully you'll be over your depressing sulk in time for the trip to my parents' home. Severa won't want to see her father in the doldrums."

"I'm still glad your parents were willing to watch over her." He said, sighing in relief. "I hope she'll be able to recognize us. It'll be her third birthday."

"She will. She has her mother's memory." Cordelia boasted pridefully, Robin huffing at the comment. Still, she smiled brightly. "Along with her father's dashing good looks."

"You've been spending too much time with Gaius, his silver tongue rubbed off on you." He commented, his ears becoming attuned to the sounds of the crowd around them. As they passed the next bastion of observers, he could hear both their names being called out. Cheers of joy and gratitude, lauding them both for their part in helping the Halidom both in and out of conflict.

The Grandmaster and Captain-General, two of Ylisse's greatest heroes. Second only to the Exalt and Queen.

At once, Robin felt a surge of confidence. Before he could stop himself, he leaned across the gap and took hold of his wife. Without shame or hesitation, the snow haired man planted a firm and long kiss upon her lips. As soon as they met, he could feel Cordelia leaning into the display, meeting him in the embrace.

Around them both, civilian and soldier alike cried out in approval. Along with a few whistles and playful calls to the happy couple.

Grima could wait. Right now, they both had everything they could ever want.

* * *

Cordelia's family estate wasn't vast. By nobility's standards, it was actually rather humble. A few acres of land in the northern range, a well sized Georgian mansion sitting in the center. Snow covered the road and fields that surrounded it, a common sight for the Frigan winter.

Two carriages pulled up to the front. In the doorway, two middle aged nobles stood along with a small cadre of servants. As the occupants dismounted from their transport they came forward to meet their guests with open arms.

Robin exited second to last, and was immediately dragged into a bearhug by the eldest gentleman.

"Robin, you mad dastard!" The bearded Earl roared as he locked his son-in-law into the embrace. "Glad to see you're in one piece! Valmese didn't turn you into a Plegian shishkebab, eh?"

The tactician couldn't respond due to the extreme pressure that was being exerted on his ribcage. It was hard to breathe, let alone talk, as the large grizzly of a man laughed and jostled him up.

Seeing that her father wasn't aware that he was crushing her husband, Cordelia made her way over and rested a hand on his shoulder. "We're happy to see you too, Daddy. Has everything been alright here?"

The distraction worked like a charm, her father releasing his captive promptly and turning to hug his daughter in a far more gentle manner. Robin, all the while, stumbled back against the edge of the carriage as he tried to catch his breath.

Behind them, Cordelia's mother was holding a discussion with Chrom and Sumia. The matron held a deep bow as she addressed the royals, in spite of them both trying to bashfully dismiss any special treatment.

Between the monarchs, a young Lucina stood at ankle height of her father. One of her mitts clutched onto her mother's hand, the other nibbled away at a piece of gingerbread that the eldest woman had given her.

All the while, the servants were busy moving luggage out from the transports and into the house. As Robin recovered, the carriage shook one last time, before the final person stepped out into the open.

Everyone turned to see this new apperance. A woman clad in mercenary gear, sword hanging off of the back of her waist and tan cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Two white twintails framed her frowning face, her eyes scanning over each of the people who were now keeping their gaze locked on her.

The woman growled, her arms remaining under the cloth.

"The hell are you all looking at?" Severa interrogated. Cordelia and Robin physically wincing at their future daughter's immediate abrasiveness. Chrom sighed, while Sumia mounted her nervous smile as she tried to counterbalance the negativity.

Cordelia's mother coughed lightly, forcing a smile as well. "And who would this young lady be?" She questioned innocently. Cordelia herself began to answer, but before a sound could leave her lips, Severa spoke for herself.

"Selena." She blatantly lied, opting to not look her grandmother in the eye. "I'm a bodyguard for his Royal Perfectness."

"Ah." The older woman replied, looking tentatively to Chrom for confirmation. He nodded, not wanting to step out of his bounds. Neither Robin or Cordelia looked like they wanted to unveil the deception.

"Sophie, take everyone inside. It's freezing out here." Cordelia's father requested, swiveling away from the subject at breakneck speed. "I'll stay behind and make sure everything's in order."

His spouse nodded, her smile returning as she restarted her conversation with the monarch. Robin followed them inside, helping one of the servants lug a rather large suitcase in. Cordelia linged for a moment longer, locking eyes with Severa. Both gave each other an unspoken assurance, before she slipped inside behind the rest of her family.

The servants finished up their work, bringing the last of the parcels inside. The knights then took the carriages around towards the stablehouse.

Which left Severa outside and alone, standing before the Earl. The large man drew out a large pipe, filling it with tobacco and striking it alight with a match. Just as he brought it to his mouth, he paused, clearly seeing the mercenary's look of disgust.

"I take it you're not a smoker?" He asked with a cocked brow, not taking a drag just yet.

Seeing that he was clearly waiting for permission, Severa rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. "Ugh, it's your house. Just pretend like I'm not here."

"That would be rude of me, young one." He pointed out, but finally brought the pipe up. Smoke billowed out as he puffed, coiling around his ungloved hands. "...You seem right at home in this weather."

"It's not _that_ cold." Severa admonished, moving some wild hair out of her eyes. "Yeesh. Little snow on the ground and everyone acts like it's a disaster."

He chuckled deeply at the young woman's gusto, inspecting her stance. She wasn't shivering at all, clearly not affected at all by the winter climate. If anything she seemed invigorated by it, her cheeks rosy with life. The Earl walked over, extending a hand for her to shake. "We haven't been introduced. My name is-"

"Nathaniel Volkner." Severa finished for him, making him take pause as she focused her eyes on the extended hand. "Earl of County Sterling, former Knight of Ylisse, survivor of the First Plegian War. Aide to the Duchess of Friga. Am I missing anything?"

Nathaniel drew his hand back, taking another long drag before speaking again. "You know an awful lot about me, Selena. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're from Sterling yourself."

"I just read the briefing." Severa deflected, turning around to face the darkening countryside. Night was falling rapidly over the January sky.

The large man didn't buy it for a moment. But instead of confronting the young woman, he walked forward to flank her. He took another long drag, puffing out circles of smog that drifted out into the cold sky. Severa watched on, suddenly enthralled by the familiar party trick, before forcing herself to look away again.

"Well. I suggest we retire indoors, the party will begin soon." He advised, flipping his pipe over and letting the tobacco fall out to melt the snow.

"I'm fine." Severa asserted. "Go. Be with your family. I'm just here to make sure everyone stays in one piece."

"And leave you here alone?" The Earl asked, his tone showing just how ludicrous the idea seemed to him. "Absolutely not. If anything I insist."

"Don't you have a Grand-daughter's birthday to celebrate!?" Severa shouted back, finally turning to glare at the old man. Both her fists were clenched, her cloak flaring out at the sudden motion. Her purple eyes violently burning behind her retinas.

The same hue as Robin's, with Cordelia's intensity reinforcing their vibrance.

Nathaniel lifted both of his hands in surrender, letting the woman calm down. With a final huff, she turned back around and away from him. As such, the Earl walked away, off and towards the entrance of his home.

Right before pausing.

"Sophie's made quite an excess of hot chocolate." He informed the sellsword. From his periphery, he could see her head adjust to better hear him. "It's her special recipe, too. Home made with steamed milk and a whole bar of chocolate. She dusts the top with cinnamon as well."

Severa's sensory memory went into overdrive, almost tasting the confection on her tongue. It had been her favorite as a child, whenever she came to visit this home she practically demanded that her Grandmother make her a batch.

It was enough to break what resistance she had left.

She groaned, lolling her head back before spinning around and marching inside. Nathaniel stepped to the left, letting her pass without further prodding.

He laughed to himself. Even all grown up, she still had the same tastes.

* * *

As the others settled in, Robin and Cordelia stood in the parlor.

The room had already been converted for the festivities. Streamers and decorations hung from the rooftop. Presents were set up on a central table, along with several plates filled with sweets and treats. A harp was placed in the corner, ready for use by anyone present. Toys were scattered across the ground, leftovers of an earlier playdate.

Each of the adults were chipping in to help with the final preparations. Not just Cordelia's parents, but the other guests as well. Olivia, Lon'qu, Lissa and Henry were all present. Each of them trying their best to do what they could, while the children ran around in circles as they waited for their friend to arrive from upstairs.

"You're sure you brought the presents?" Cordelia questioned.

"I'm sure." Robin confirmed.

"You're sure you brought _both_ of the presents?" Cordelia insisted, ever so subtly panicking.

"Cordelia, please. Everything is fine." He promised.

"You're certain." She continued to press. "We made sure to pack them into the carriages? The workers didn't drop them in the snow? What if they were broken on the ride here? What if-"

"**Cordelia.**" Robin firmly said, looking at his wife square in the eye. The woman sighed, letting her nerves cool just a tad.

Right then, three knocks could be heard coming from the roof above. Almost immediately, everyone silenced themselves and smothered the oil lamps. Both Robin and Cordelia took their positions.

Two pairs of feet could be heard descending the stairs, one small and one large. Closer and closer they came, until they were at the entrance of the parlor. As they arrived, Robin quickly shot an ember into the large lamp above them, suddenly reigniting the room.

At the entrance, Sophie stood with a young Severa in hand. The girl's hair was hanging free, wildly splayed all over. She'd clearly just been roused from her nap, but at that moment she had never felt more awake.

"**SURPRISE!"** Everyone in the room called out, Robin and Cordelia both standing at the forefront.

The girl stood there, shellshocked. Each of the faces fixed on her, some she knew well and the others quite hazy.

It wasn't until she saw the two in the center that she seemed to stir.

Sophie crouched down, whispering confirmation into her ear. Carefully, the girl took a step forward to the two figures.

Then another.

Then one more.

Before she broke out into a full sprint.

With the force of a horse, she jumped forward and tackled Robin. Slamming into his gut without reservation, sending him flying back onto the ground. His back smashed into the ground, and his head smacked the carpeted floor hard.

And so, the Grandmaster laid there, dazed and confused, while his daughter happily bounced on his stomach. "Daddy! Daddy, daddy!"

The room erupted into a wild laughter, Robin not in the state to try and move. As such, Cordelia bent over and picked the young girl up. Immediately, Severa wriggled out of her grip and hopped onto the Knight's shoulders. Her calls for her father were supplanted with joyous ones for her mother.

The party began in earnest then.

Once she'd been effectively decoupled from her parents, the young Severa ran towards the cake. Each of the three candles were promptly blown out, and the confection was doled out to all in attendance. The child bounced from person to person, happily playing with the three friends who had come to join her for these festivities.

For a few hours, the party separated. The younger attendees running off to wreak havoc through the rest of the house, while their parents and the Lords of the manor went to sit along a table. The topic of discussion randomly shifted, from war stories to politics to how each of their offspring had fared two years without their parents.

All the while, the older version sat in a corner, avoiding eye contact and sipping away at her hot cocoa.

"It's so good to finally be home." Sumia said, her head perking as she heard Lucina cry out suddenly. As she stood to check, the same girl's voice cried out to affirm that she was alright.

As the Queen sat back down in relief, Lissa looked over to Robin. "So… think it's time to break the news?"

"News?" Chrom questioned, a whipped cream mustache on his lip. "Is something the matter?"

"Ooooooooh, nothing~." Lissa taunted in a singsong voice. Henry snickered knowingly alongside his wife, the dark mage's diversive laugh seeming eerily insidious.

"Suppose it's best we say something sooner rather than later." Cordelia said, Robin groaning as he sunk deeper into the chair. Sumia and Olivia leaned closer, very clearly caught up in this mysterious revelation. Even Lon'qu looked intrigued, the swordmaster watching warely from his seat.

Robin took his wife's hand, and she promptly moved it closer. Resting it… right on top of her belly.

Everyone instantly understood.

"**OH MY GODS!"** Sumia and Olivia cried out in unison, both women shrieking with joy. The men at the table all recoiled at the sound, while Cordelia and her mother both chuckled in a dry mirth.

"I can't believe this!" Olivia said, rushing over to Cordelia's side and nearly shoving Robin out of the way. "When are they due? Are they a boy or a girl? Ooooh, this is so exciting!"

Lissa made a strong 'ahem', making Olivia suddenly blush violently as she realized how many eyes were suddenly on her. The Cleric smiled happily.

"Well, as the healer who found out, I'm happy to announce that Cordelia will be giving birth to a healthy baby in six months." She told the table. "She should be due right around you are, Sumia."

Sumia visibly shook with exuberance, grinning from ear to ear. "Ooooh, this is fantastic! Have you two picked a name?"

Robin nodded, then took pause, as he saw the older Severa suddenly stand up. Without a word, the mercenary dove headlong into the kitchen, not giving anyone a look.

Something was wrong, he could feel it. And judging from the spark of fear behind Cordelia's eyes, she could sense it as well.

The two shared a glance, coming to an agreement. Robin promptly stood then, making a request to relieve himself while Cordelia swiftly took his place.

He then followed his future child, walking briskly.

* * *

He found Severa outside again. The woman sitting on the front steps, her arms exposed to the winter night's elements. The woman's hair was covered in snowflakes. Her head was bowed over, tears streaming down her cheeks as she quietly sobbed into the darkness. Each of her motions was wracked in sorrow, like someone was striking her repeatedly.

Robin didn't speak. He sat down next to her, joining her sullen silence. As soon as his pants grazed the stone, his daughter promptly embraced him again. Her sobs grew more intense, nose running as the cold began to take its toll.

They sat there, cradling one another, for what seemed like an eternity. Robin didn't know _what_ was wrong, but that didn't seem to matter at that moment.

He wanted her to go at her own pace.

In time, she did.

"I'm such a diva." She croaked out, face buried in his cloak. "Everyone's having a great time. You and Mother are happy, you get to see your real kid again. And here I go making everyone care about _me_. Like I even matter."

"You'll always matter to us, pumpkin." Robin assured. "I promise."

Severa shook her head, but didn't verbally protest. Her crying seemed to stop, but the sorrow was still there.

"...May fifth." She told him, seemingly at random.

"What?" Robin asked, confused.

"She'll be born on May fifth." Severa clarified. "You and Mom are gonna freak out. It'll be a few weeks early, you'll both panic."

"How do y-" Robin tried to say, but he couldn't. She was on a roll.

"She'll have red hair, just like Mother." Severa kept rambling, almost incoherent. "Red eyes, too. And she'll have the brand right at the top of her spine."

Understanding dawned on Robin as he realized what she was saying, his breath hitching at this revelation being thrown upon him all at once. Severa never spoke about the future, she did so as a rule. For her to do this was… unprecedented.

"She'll be a Pegasus Knight _and_ a tactician." Severa continued. "She'll love bear meat, and pranks, and running around, and she'll _always_ be happy. Even when things get bad, she'll never stop smiling. Even after everything that happens…"

"...What's her name?" Robin asks, a fist clenching around his heart. He already knew the answer, him and Cordelia had chosen a name the moment they found out.

"M-Morgan." Severa whispered, as if the name was laced with poison. Tears began to flow again, but she didn't sob anymore.

"I'm so, so sorry Daddy." She told him, beyond the point of no return. "I tried to save her. I tried to bring her with me. B-but there were so many Risen. I tried, I tried. B-but then the archers came out of nowhere. She tried to fly away, there were so many…"

Whatever she said turned to mush from that point on, her face burrowing deeper into the man's cloak. Until all that could be heard was the same phrase on repeat.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

Each time repeated felt like another knife into his heart.

"I know you did everything you could." Robin comforted, the pain in his chest coming second to the pain his child was suffering. "I… I think she'd be proud of you. You've done so much good here, Sev. You deserve some rest, more than anyone."

His daughter sniffled, and he moved to wipe her face away with his sleeve. Her eyes remained puffed out, but the waterworks seemed to have stopped for good.

Robin smiled, despite himself. This was supposed to be a happy day. They all deserved a happy day.

"Let's head back. I want to show you something."

* * *

Both of the white haired soldiers traipsed themselves back inside.

Looking at the clock, Robin was able to discover that they'd only been absent for about half an hour. In the upper floors, they could still hear the joy filled sounds of the younger children danced down onto their heads. It cleared some of the cobwebs from his mind, knowing the wider world was still enjoying themselves.

The parlor had gone dark again, however.

Severa halted, her hand reflexively going for the blade that was still hanging off her back. Robin just took a step away, letting her stand on her own.

Then, he fired another quick shot of flame into the lamp above.

As light refilled the room again, each of the adults was standing upright once more. All of them beaming out, with Cordelia standing centerfold once more. This time, a long package held clearly in her hands.

On the table was a new, fresh cake. Smaller, clearly meant for a single person. Chocolate and vanilla frosting danced across it in a zigzag pattern. A new mug of cocoa was placed next to it, steam curling up into the air.

Severa stood there, mouth hanging open in shock. She couldn't move until Robin put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her forwards.

The birthday song swam into her ears. But this time, it wasn't for her junior.

Robin parked his daughter in front of her mother. Gingerly, Cordelia extended the parcel, letting Severa take it at her leisure.

"This... is for you." Cordelia said, crystals of water poking out from her eyes.

As Severa took her present, she carefully began to take off the packaging. First the paper, then opening the red case that housed it. Inside was a long, elegant rapier. A dark red hilt, with a simple golden handguard and winged finish at the top of the grip.

Severa pulled the blade out of its sheath, inspecting the bright silver that shone back at her. It was a masterfully crafted sword, one that would last her decades at least.

"You probably know, but… on someone's nineteenth birthday, it's tradition in Friga to give them their own weapon." Cordelia said cautiously, watching her reaction with expectation. "Lon'qu and Olivia helped us find a smith, but your father and I handled the design."

The mercenary's eyes didn't budge from the prize. Instead, she went to re-sheath it, holding it in both hands once more. Her grip remained light, as if she was holding the most precious thing on the planet. She then unhooked the strap for the sheath on her person, taking it off and giving it to her father, before fastening this new blade to her person.

Carefully, she came forwards, making an effort to not jostle or prod Cordelia's center of mass. Still, she hugged her mother tight, hanging on for dear life as she accepted the gift.

Around her, she felt others join the hug. Her father, along with her grandparents. Each of them coming together around the lost warrior to finally give her one happy day.

"Thank you. All of you." Severa said in a shaky voice. It was projected outwards to all, those near her and those above. The sounds of happy children, playing and prancing returned to the forefront once more. Life and joy took hold in the house, overcoming any and everything else.

For the first time in ages, the swordswoman didn't care what came next. The world just melted away.

All except three final words.

"Happy birthday, Severa."

* * *

_**A/N: New one-shot series I'm gonna update randomly. Focusing on the quadumverate of kids that come from the two protagonists of Awakening.**_

_**o/**_


	2. Short Change Hero (Morgan)

Mount Prism was, as always, the picture of serenity.

Life covered every inch of the mountain. From green grass with patches of colored flowers, butterflies and bees buzzing about, to even the occasional rabbit hopping along the plains. It was as if all of nature was encompassed on this small plateau out in the far border of Ylisse, the closest thing anyone could find to pure serenity.

It was uncommon that someone made the trek all the way to this tall mount of stone. Even more so, marching to the mountain's peak so they could reach the shrine that was nestled high above the clouds.

Yet, four figures had done just that. It hadn't been easy. They'd been traveling for two weeks to get from Ylisstol to here. As usual, their seemingly simple trip had bogged down into a series of unfortunate events.

The first was when Cynthia discovered that she hadn't brought enough gold to buy them a room in any of the inns, which meant that the children had to spend every night sleeping under starlight instead of in a warm bed. Nothing they weren't used to, but they'd grown accustomed to this timeline's creature comforts.

The second was when their 'guide' realized that the maps she had procured were twenty years out of date. So the group, initially planning to follow what appeared to be a roadway that easily lead from point A to B, discovered that the road had long since been abandoned and left in utter disrepair a third of the way down. Morgan had to plan a new route, while also begging for the forgiveness of her friends.

The third was when they happened upon a town to procure provisions. As usual, Brady's thuggish demeanor off put many of the locals. Except this time it was even worse, the Priest happened to look awfully similar to a criminal on the loose in the region. Which meant that for half the trip, the group had to actively hide from manhunters trying to claim the bounty.

Finally, the fourth came when Laurent randomly was accosted by a bout of the flu. This was doubly strange. For one, the mage had never been sick for as long as he'd been walking the earth. Along with that, it was the middle of _june_. The idea of anyone catching such an illness at this time of year was absurd, and yet, he'd done just that. His three comrades having to tend to him at every pause to ensure he didn't empty his bowels.

But somehow, _somehow_, by Naga's grace, they'd still arrived.

When they arrived at the base of the Mountain, they'd been greeted by a familiar face. In the four years since Grima's defeat, Libra had retaken his post as a member of the Divine Church. The monk had been expecting them, been warned ahead of time by Cynthia's parents for their upcoming arrival. He'd given them warm beds and good meals, helped walk Laurent through the waning days of his plague, loaned them some gold and given them a real map. The man even managed to convince their pursuers, whom they'd thought they'd lost, that Brady was not in fact the 'hackman of Hannesey' that they were so doggedly trying to collar.

It was a much needed respite after a long journey. Two days rest before they finally undertook this last march up the mountain.

As they reached the grand stone door that marked the entrance to Naga's final resting place, the four of them looked on with a mix of awe and nostalga. Even if this wasn't the first, or second, time they'd come here, there was a grandness to visiting the Goddess' resting place. It was ethereal and unreal, something that couldn't be believed even as they saw it. The majesty and quiet of such a tremendously powerful place.

Morgan took in a breath, steeling her nerves. "I guess this is where we split up." She told the group.

"You're sure you don't want us to come along?" Cynthia offered. She twiddled her thumbs, looking around anxiously. Not only had she been forced to leave her pegasus at ground level, now she wasn't even going to be able to join her best friend in the shrine.

"Naga prolly won't mind _me_ bein' there at least." Brady postulated, leaning against his healing rod like it was a common walking stick. "I am one of'er Priests after all. That's gotta count for somethin'!"

"It is strange, the Divine Mother never objected to group audiences in the past." Laurent lamented, pursing his lips as he gazed inside the long corridor that lead deeper into the domicile. Even without the flu, this whole trip had bothered him from the onset. Something felt… off.

Morgan spun around, her new dark flier armor rattling with the sudden twirl. She mounted a bright smile, aimining it towards her companions and turning it on full blast. "Hey, c'mon! It'll be fine! I just gotta go in, talk with Naga, get my memories restored, then we all go home! Easy peasy!"

"Who knew mending brain damage was so simple." Laurent said in a dry monotone, entirely unconvinced. He sounded eerily like his father.

"Oh don't be such a stick in the swamp!" Morgan continued to assure. "Since when has Naga ever let us down?"

"She's got a point. If her Holiness says she can do it, she'll do it." Brady pointed out.

"Well I'm with Morgan!" Cynthia assured, hopping up to stand next to her friend. "This is just one new chapter in the annals of the Justice Cabal's neverending story! The brave Lieutenant, long since injured after her flight from _**evil**_, finally restored to her true power!"

Morgan giggled wildly, easily getting caught up in the charade as usual. A mischievous twinkle caught in her eye as a new idea came to her. "Ooo, you think Naga'll give me some sort of super cool artifact too? Like an ancient tome! Or maybe a spear made from one of her fangs!"

Cynthia squealed with delight at the idea, much to the active misfortune of Brady and Laurent's hearing. "Oh. My. Gods. _Yes!_ If you get one of those, then I just need to borrow Falchon from Lucy and we'll be set! No one'll be able to stop us!"

Both the girls started jumping for joy at the idea, while Brady quietly leaned over to whisper to his other male companion. "Y'ever worry what would happen if they weren't on _our_ side?" He mumbled.

"Every day." Laurent confirmed without hesitation. "Without context, you would think they were planning world domination. Or worse, making _us_ join in their 'cabal'."

The magicians both shuddered at the thought. For their sake, it didn't seem like either girl noticed their quiet disapproval. Too busy in wild scheming of the adventures and acts they'd do if they were both armed with holy weapons.

Once they'd sated their creativity, Morgan looked over her shoulder again to the path that lead inside. It was foreboding, to say the least, but she'd come here for a reason. One way or another, she would be getting what she wanted.

"Well. Time to go then." She declared, before marching forward and taking a few steps. As she went, though, a grip suddenly latched onto her wrist. Looking behind her, she saw Brady hovering above with his face creased with concern.

"You're sure you're OK?" He asked, sensing something was off. To which Morgan diversely snorted.

"Since when have I _not _been OK?" Morgan responded, spinning back around to face him. She held both his hands, smilingly happily as she looked into the man's eyes. Kind and gentle, the feature that belied his true nature behind the gruff exterior.

Brady didn't laugh. "Listen, doll. I know you're usually smilin', but that don't mean I ain't gonna worry about ya. Yer goin' in there alone, and I just want ya ta understand-"

The healer did not get to finish his train of thought. His lips had sadly been sealed shut as he tried. His girlfriend had stood up on her toes, engaging him in a strong kiss. One that had more force than the usual behind it, and one that Morgan didn't seem keen on ending herself.

The two stood there locked together for a minute, Brady only breaking off when his lungs seemed depleted of oxygen. Morgan pulled back as well, seemingly unphased by the blazen act of affection. She just kept smiling, vibrant and happy.

"I love you." She declared, not a shred of conflict in her voice. Brady was visibly stunned. They'd both been dating for a few months now, but this was the first time either of them had used the word. Yet she dropped the phrase like it was nothing.

With one last squeeze, Morgan decoupled herself from him, spinning about and walking down the path to the chambers within.

Brady stood there, alone, brushing his hands against his lips. It was the happiest he'd felt in a long time, and yet the priest still couldn't shake the growing sense of dread in his chest.

Ever since they'd gotten the summons, he'd sensed the tension and anxiety that had been building up in Morgan. On the trip here, the normally organized chaos that made the tactician who she was seemed to be only chaotic. Even now, through the kiss they shared, he could feel fear and desperation within his partner's every move.

Never before had he been so joyful, and yet so scared.

* * *

There was something otherworldly about this temple Morgan felt.

No matter the timeline she was in, no matter the land or her surroundings, Naga's shrine somehow always managed to radiate serenity. The shining marble floors and walls reflect all light that came to them, making it seem like she was walking in a hall of mirrors. Large statues towered above, each one carved into the image of manaketes that she couldn't name.

She couldn't sense any other humans here, much to her visible relief. She was rightfully, and completely alone.

The dark flier reached the end of the hall, stopping before the stone casket that was carved into the very ground she stood on. It was an elegant, beautiful work. The wings of dragons accenting the edges of the rectangle, with the lid firmly sealed shut. Far too heavy for any man to ever pry open.

Nothing but a casket and a corpse. That's all she'd trudged her way here for.

"**Naga?"** Morgan called out, turning around so she looked out to the greater hall once more. There was no response. All that was there were statues, each of them ignoring her and her emotional turmoil. To these gods, she was but an ant. Below their attention, and not worth their while.

It was driving her up the wall.

Morgan had come here in sheer desperation. So many things had been lost to her over the past years. Her father, her sister, her innocence. The others tried to be a port in the storm, but that only made it worse. None of them knew the truth, and they could never know.

The weeks prior to Naga's summons, she'd been on hand and knee praying for a sign. Some kind of salvation from the torments of her mind, and the memories she'd come to mend. It had gotten progressively worse and worse, and the young tactician could feel herself slipping away into the void.

Even with Grima's demise, she could feel it within herself. She was turning into her father. Her _true_ Father. The one who'd destroyed everything.

And that terrified her. The idea of being evil again.

"**I know you're there!" **She continued to call. "**You said you wanted to talk! Well, I'm here! Let's talk!"**

Nothing. A mocking silence.

Morgan's fists curled tight. Her teeth grit together, and her mouth formed an uncharacteristic snarl. At once, both her fists ignited into a purple flame. The brand of her birthright burned strong, right at the top of her spine. The blaze raced across her body, ecasing her limbs. Below her, the reflective stone began to smolder as it was scorched away.

Then, the flames were snuffed. A gust of wind blew, smothering their energy. The brand's light subsided, leaving Morgan chilled.

Behind her, light shone from above the casket. The beams slowly morphing to resemble the form of a tall, ghostly woman. Green hair and long ears, a gown and scarf that floated around her like they had a consciousness of their own.

Naga. The Queen of the Divine Dragons. The Goddess of Ylisse, protector of life. She hovered in place, gazing down at her guest with disappointment.

"**This is a place of peace, young one."** The deity chastised, her voice booming off the walls like an echo more than speech. She floated down, standing on the floor before Morgan. Still, she towered above the human. Even as a spirit, manaketes easily out grew their more mortal counterparts.

"I'm about to make it a place of _pieces._" Morgan spat, throwing away any semblance of civility. They were alone, anyway. She didn't need to keep up her usual happy-go-lucky act.

Naga's expression didn't change. Instead, the spirit waved a hand. More wind flew out from the walls, surrounding Morgan's form. The gusts tore her tome away from her hip, sending them flying away down the hall and out of sight.

Morgan took a step back, shocked and now completely unarmed.

"**Are we done making threats, now?"** Naga asked with a casual disregard, as if she was a bored caretaker watching over a petulant child. Seeing that she wasn't being given a witty response, the manakete took that as a sign of victory. "**Very well."**

Another wave of the hand, and behind her Morgan could hear the doors of the domicile close shut. It was a foreboding, loud echo.

"**They were not entering regardless, but for your peace of mind, we shall call that 'insurance'." **Naga explained, referring to her trip of friends who were now completely barred from coming to her aid.

She was now trapped inside, alone, with an all-powerful spirit whom she did not fully trust. If she perished here, it would be no one's fault but her own.

"**Normally, I prefer to speak with my children without this atmosphere." **Naga lamented, taking a breath. At once, the spirit's translucent form became opaque. Color surged to her skin, and gravity began to affect her clothing and hair. It was as if she was actually there, alive and well. A very convincing illusion.

"But I do not believe that is possible in this case, given our history." The Goddess said, her voice now coming clear from her lips. This admittance was, oddly, enough to make Morgan relax. It let her know where they both stood.

"So you _do_ have the other you's memories." Morgan observed, hands going on her hips. "Good, that makes this easier."

"That may be the first time someone felt more relieved that their victim was aware who their killer was." Naga observed, but not without mirth. There was a strange sense of peace, both of them confronting one another for what had happened in that fallen world.

"I didn't kill you. Grima did, I just held you down." Morgan corrected. Before they went to chase down the New Shepherds, she had helped that twisted version of her father kill the Naga of her world. It had been the hardest battle she would ever partake in, far harder than killing Grima himself.

Naga laughed at the thought. That world's simile of hers had done her best. Sadly, her best wasn't enough. Still, through her own intervention, Grima had failed in that land as well. Their Tiki had taken the mantle, and that Grima had been silenced.

Thankfully, they reached the same end here as well. Except this time, neither her nor her daughter had to give their lives for it.

"I must admit, it's strange seeing you as a Dark Flier and not a Wyvern Lord." Naga observed. The tactician's cloak had been seamlessly melded with the gear of the airborne magicians. She now looked like a hybrid of the two, fighting as one while acting as the other. "Dare I say, it fits you far better."

"Thank my Mother, she's helped me stick to the right path." The redhead admitted. This world's version of her mother and father were her true role models now, and how she dressed aimed to reflect that.

"As we to do." Naga said with a chuckle, having spent more time over the past years speaking with her daughter. Grima had brought them close again, a silver lining through the horror.

Morgan looked to both her gloved hands, opening and closing them, as she tried to speak. "...Why did you call me here?"

Naga's eyes danced up and down Morgan's tall form, trying to make what she could of the girl. When the Goddess first sensed her arrival to this timeline, her immediate intention was to smite her from this world as well. But, she hadn't. She let her wander.

"To see what Grima's greatest General has become since coming to my world. Amongst other things." The dragon admitted. Morgan pouted, falling back into her usual antics. "And to try and offer comfort for your plight."

"Not much comfort you can give." Morgan grumbled. "I woke up one morning, then suddenly remembered I tried to kill everyone I care about."

"Something you've clearly been struggling with." Naga pointed out, resting an ethereal hand on Morgan's shoulder. The cloth of the tactician's cloak suddenly felt damp, covered in moisture that was aki to the morning dew. "You told your friends that you wished to come here so I could restore your memories. But in truth, I think you wish for me to do the opposite."

Morgan visibly deflated, her real intentions coming to light. Her head turned to reflexively look behind her, staring off towards where she knew her companions were waiting, then back towards the deity she was conversing with.

She didn't need her memories fixed. She needed them broken again.

"...I can't do this." She admitted in a small voice. "I can't live with this guilt."

Naga pursed her lips, contemplating the young woman's words. She then lifted both her hands placing them around the crown of Morgan's forehead. The flier gasped as a flash of light engulfed them both.

The world disappeared in a blanket of white. All sound and motion was sapped from the atmosphere. It was as if everything had collapsed in on itself, leaving the world empty and forlorn.

Then the horns of war began to sound.

As soon as the light came, it was replaced by a dark orange vista. Morgan and Naga both found themselves standing within a dark fort. Them were several rooms, risen spreading out through the whole enclosure as living figures desperately fought and fled with all due haste.

In each corner, Morgan could see one of her companions. Kjelle standing before a door, bashing and stabbing her way through a column of enemies. Noire atop a tall shelf, slinging arrows into the endless mob. Nah was knocked to the side, battered and bruised as she clutched her dragon stone in defiance. Cynthia lead the pack, defending her crippled pegasus desperately with only a simple spear.

The fort itself was beyond saving. Even now with so many occupants stuffed inside, the roof began to creak and sway. Pieces of cobble and soot rained down on the combatants, the very structure of the building not being able to withstand such a surge of action.

That had been Morgan's back up plan. If the Risen couldn't kill their targets, then the collapse of the fort would at least give them a proper burial.

It was too much. The tactician collapsed onto her knees, watching in despair as Grima' legions advanced to murder all she had ever held dear. She couldn't yell, couldn't stop it, couldn't intervene no matter how she tried.

She was just an observer to one of her greatest sins.

"You walked one of the darkest paths imaginable." Naga commented, standing by her side as the fight continued on apathetic to their presence. "That you even survived is a miracle in it of itself."

"Who said I did." Morgan replied in a small, hollow voice.

"You're here with me, I see that as ample evidence." Naga mused casually, waving a hand to let the scene freeze in place. Risen halted in mid attack, figures reeling and lunging in place. The scene had gone from a battleground to a diorama, like a museum piece that tourists hawked at so they could better understand what had come before.

"Your friends never lost hope that you would return to them." Naga spoke, the observation making Morgan look back up to the Goddess. "Each of them knew in their hearts that you never wanted things to end like this."

"They didn't know I switched sides." Morgan rationalized. It was the only explanation how they still had any faith that she wasn't too far gone.

"Most of them, yes." Naga admitted, the scene dissolving as she spoke. "But not all of them."

The white came back, only to fall away again as a new vista was reconstructed. The courtyard of Ylisstol's palace, cracked and ruined by endless conflict, was now covered in the advancing army's lifeless forms.

At the head of it, Lucina could be seen desperately slashing away at her assailants. The Fire Emblem hung off her arm, acting quite well as a conventional shield as it deflected axe strikes and spear thrusts. Laurent was at her side, launching balls of fire at all who dared come close. Above, Gerome and Minerva could be seen diving down to pick off targets as best they could.

In the center, Severa was prone on her back, desperately trying to push an undead warrior off of her form. Her blade already lodged in it's abdomen.

Before she could stop herself, Morgan ran off towards the fallen mercenary. Immediately she grabbed onto the risen, using every ounce of her strength to try and pry the thing off of the swordswoman. But it didn't move, nothing moved. Tug and tug as much as she could, it was as if she wasn't even there.

"These are merely reflections. Neither you nor I can affect what occurs here." Naga advised, materializing to Morgan's behind. Though, Morgan didn't pay any mind. She still desperately tried to rip the woman free.

Saddened, Naga went to the tactician's left and came down on her knees. Both hands resting calmly in her lap. She wore an understanding, but still solemn smile.

"Your sister is beyond your help, child. In this realm and our own." She finally said, the truth piecing through the young woman's desperate act.

Morgan collapsed on top of the creature, her body racked with sobs of regret and disgust. If only she'd been given another chance, maybe she could've done the right thing. Maybe she could have saved them all.

"She knew what you had become." Naga spoke. "As did Lucina, Laurent, Cynthia. None of them hated you for it. They knew that one day you would return to them, somehow."

It only made it worse. This new knowledge that her world's sister was aware of her betrayal. And that somehow, through all of it, she still expected her little sibling to come back to the right side.

In a way, she did. But not in her own timeline.

"...I never got to tell her I was sorry." Morgan lamented. "By the time everything started flood back, she was already gone."

Naga hummed, taking hold of the young woman's shoulders. She brought her up to her feet, carefully helping wipe away the stains of tears.

"How could I have done this?" Morgan croaked. "This… all of this is wrong. It goes against everything I ever believed in."

The manakete finished up as best she could, spinning the depressed tactician around so she faced her. Red rimmed eyes looked into hers, desperate for a reason. "Grima's influence was vast and powerful. His puppeteering of your father was an easy way to bring you under his yolk."

"But my father would've **hated** this! He loved Ylisse, and he wanted to keep everyone safe!" Morgan protested. "I… I should've stopped myself."

"You did." Naga said, much to Morgan's visible confusion. Despite herself, Naga chuckled. "So not _all_ of your memories have returned."

The scene changed again, one last time.

They stood in a canyon now. Both sides of a fallen bridge trapped in what seemed to be a desperate struggle. In the conflict she could see some of her friends, Brady included, fighting against insurmountable odds.

But within that mass, she saw flickering spirits. Shadows in the shape of the older Shepherds, fighting alongside their children. Mother and father both helping strike down the monsters who dared to assault the younger warriors.

In the far distance, they could see two remaining figures. A wyvern and it's rider, hovering menacingly above an armored grandmaster. The white haired man held up a book, and the woman who rode the undead beast leaned down to pluck it from his hand.

Morgan watched, enraptured and befuddled. She knew that book, she had two identical copies resting on her desk back in her palace dorm.

"You left the battle after this meeting." Naga informed. "Your father… your _real_ father's intervention rose you from Grima's misdirection."

"Grima would've never tolerated me leaving a fight." Morgan commented.

"He didn't." Naga confirmed. "You defied him, so you were no longer useful. As punishment, he broke you. Stripped you of almost all your memories, then banished you into the outrealms."

Naga sighed, recalling the scene bleakly. How before the fell dragon had done the deed, the tactician pleaded for him to spare those who still remained. Finally awoken to all the horrors he had carried out.

He hadn't listened. The woman had been thrown out like garbage, it was only luck that she landed in Naga's stable timeline. Seeing her arrival, the Goddess repaired the only memory she could. An old one, searching ruins with her father for an artifact.

With this final scene shown, the world fell apart. Without fanfare, the both of them were standing back in Naga's temple. Though in truth, they had never left.

The manakete released her grasp on the flier, letting her stand on her own volition. A surge filled Morgan's mind, and she suddenly felt her mind… come together. Mend the broken pieces.

She remembered everything. Not just her time as Grima's servant, but the time before. Growing up with her parents, playing with her friends, being sheltered by her elder sister once both Robin and Cordelia had been lost.

For the first time since this episode had started, she felt… happy.

She had been loved by so many. Then and now.

"We are more than our failures, Morgan Volkner." Naga comforted. "We fall so we may stand back up. I know this well, because I too have faltered. But those lessons taught me, as they will teach you."

Morgan nodded in understanding. The full picture was clear to her now. She knew everything she had to. But there was still a fear there, for obvious reasons. She turned around, looking off to the exit as the door roared open. The light of Mount Prism poured inside, filling the chambers with warmth.

"I can't tell them. Not yet." Morgan lamented.

"You will. When you're ready." Naga assured.

"I don't know if I'm ever going to be ready."

"We shall see. But _I_ have faith that day will come." Naga said, smiling again. No sorrow, merely a peaceful serenity. Her form shimmered as she returned to her spiritual form, floating above the ground as gravity no longer held sway.

Her voice became an echo as she faded away, sensing that her guest had… made some peace with herself. A new resolve was born within the Grandmaster's second heir. One to make the best of what she knowledge she now possessed.

As her guest walked off to the exit, pride filled the Goddess' final words.

"**Go forth, young hero. Go forth and live with my blessing."**


End file.
